


more than just surviving

by ladydetective



Category: Book of the Ancestor Series - Mark Lawrence
Genre: APPLE LIVES, F/F, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydetective/pseuds/ladydetective
Summary: Apple, Kettle, Healing."It is important, when healing a nun, to ensure that you bring snacks of sufficient quantity and quality. For Sister Apple of Sweet Mercy Convent, Sister Kettle brought a feast fit for a Queen and a stolen bottle of Sweet Mercy red."
Relationships: Sister Apple/Sister Kettle
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	more than just surviving

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my previous fic, but you don't necessarily have to have read it to understand. It's essentially my headcanon for how post Holy Sister would work with Apple still alive, enjoy!!

It is important, when healing a nun, to ensure that you bring snacks of sufficient quantity and quality. For Sister Apple of Sweet Mercy Convent, Sister Kettle brought a feast fit for a Queen and a stolen bottle of Sweet Mercy red. 

* * *

Apple was, to put it plainly, bored out of her mind. Two months had passed since the battle at Verity, two months since she had sustained a stab wound that should have, by all rights, killed her. She was recovering, but the process was painfully slow. Her stomach still ached like a fresh wound if she was on her feet for much longer than five minutes, leaving her essentially bedridden. She had more or less recovered her mental faculties, no longer falling to exhaustion after the slightest exertion, but this in truth was more of a curse than a blessing as it only added to the excruciating boredom she felt. Sister Rose had been adamant that she not resume her duties as Mistress Shade until her recovery was more complete. Apple scowled at the memory – she was more than capable of receiving some reports and brewing a few mixtures – but as acting Abbess, Rose’s decision on the matter was final. 

_ Interfering old bat _ , Apple thought unkindly. In usual times, the two had a healthy working relationship – if one that was slightly marred by the elder nun’s disapproval of her tendencies to poison novices. In usual times, however, Apple was not bound to abide by the other woman’s health restrictions. 

At least she’d been permitted to leave the Sanitorium. She would have gone mad in there, with novices clattering in and out with any number of inane injuries. Her own chambers in the Shade caverns at least afforded her some privacy. The one bright spot in all of this was that Kettle had been permitted to move in with her – to “monitor her recovery” when Sister Rose herself could not. Such a thing would have been impossible in years past – their relationship was not exactly a well-kept secret and even now they received askance looks from some of the older nuns. Apple amused herself for a moment pondering how Abbess Wheel would have reacted – no doubt the former Mistress Spirit would have been apoplectic with rage. 

It was wonderful to go to sleep with Kettle at her side at night and wake up with her still there come morning. It had not always been possible previously – Wheel’s chastity checks had been just as vigorous for Sisters as they were for novices, so they’d often had to have their secret trysts and return to their respective rooms in order to maintain the illusion that there was nothing untoward going on. 

Not that there was anything particularly untoward happening at the moment – her injury was still too painful for anything more exuberant than kissing and some light fondling. She’d be lying if she said that had nothing to do with her current state of frustration. 

_ Anyway. _

Her temper, never famed for its length – as many a novice can attest – had been particularly short of late. She was snappish and irritable, and as her closest companion, poor Kettle was currently bearing the unfortunate brunt of it. She was taking it in her stride, however – when Apple had asked her about it the other day, in a rare moment where she hadn’t felt like burning the planet down out of frustration, the other woman had admitted that she’d rather live in a world where her lover was a little short tempered than one in which she was dead, as she’d believed she had been for several horrifying hours during the battle. Apple hadn’t known how to respond to that, so she’d kissed her instead. 

Her musings were interrupted by the appearance of Kettle herself at the door. ‘Safe to enter?’ She asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, ‘I come bearing gifts.’

Apple smiled, all too familiar with what that particular look meant. Eager for anything to distract her mind, she played along, adopting a disaffected voice. ‘Depends on what those gifts are.’

Kettle strolled over to Apple’s sickbed and planted a kiss to her cheek. ‘Someone very wise once told me that patience was a virtue essential to any Grey Sister worth her salt.’

Apple hummed noncommittedly as she accepted her lover’s kiss. ‘That may have been before the aforementioned wise person was shackled to her bed with nothing to do for the foreseeable future.’

The other woman shrugged, conceding. ‘A fair point,’ she said, removing her Grey cloak to reveal the surprise she’d hidden within. ‘I convinced the cooks to make your favourite meal. Nicked the ingredients from Verity myself, and even managed to pilfer this,’ she presented a bottle of Sweet Mercy Red with a flourish, ‘from beneath the nose of our very own Sister Oak. A fine use of my years of training, wouldn’t you agree?’

Apple laughed – which felt good after the day she’d had, Kettle always did know how best to make her smile – as she helped set out the meal. ‘As Mistress Shade, I’d give you points for ingenuity and attention to detail. I imagine Adoma’s fortress was child’s play in comparison to smuggling that from beneath Oak’s nose. Is it a vintage?’

Kettle winked. ‘But of course. Only the best for you, my dear. Now, let’s get started. I’m starving!’

They ate, chatting companionably about everything and nothing. Their relationship had never been one that had run a traditional course – they’d first met when Kettle was a novice still dating Safira and Apple had been a Grey Sister rapidly climbing the ladder – she’d even been her teacher for the last few months of her training. Nothing happened between them until Kettle had taken her Holy Orders, but even then they were bound by the strictures and routines of Convent life. Every meal was taken in the dining hall, just as Kettle at least was expected to spend every night in her cell. Now, as they ate together in the bedchamber portion of the Shade caverns, they were almost like any other couple anywhere else. It was something they could both get used to. 

‘Thank you for doing this,’ said Apple, softly. ‘It was a nice thought,’ she cleared her throat, affection for the other woman overwhelming her. ‘Anyway… food heists aside, how was your day?’

Kettle chuckled. ‘My food heist was undoubtedly the highlight – the rest of the day was mostly filled with helping with the rebuilding and covering your classes.’

Apple inclined her head, interested. ‘And how are both of those things coming along?’

‘Classes are alright – I don’t think I have your knack for teaching large groups, though. I’m better with one-on-one tutoring, like with Nona all those years ago, or smaller groups. The rebuilding is going along about as well as can be expected – we’ve finished most of the major things that have needed doing around the Convent, and have started to send novices into Verity to help with the repairs there. That’s on a Volunteer basis, though – not all the girls were eager to return to the site of the Battle, and I can’t blame them for that.’

Apple nodded, ‘No, I don’t suppose we can. Although I hope for their sake that it’s something they can get over eventually – after all, what’s the point in being a Novice if you can’t sneak into Verity for some sort of illicit rendezvous?’

Kettle laughed – it was a relief to hear her do so with some regularity again. Her usually cheerful lover had been morose in the weeks immediately following the battle, mourning her Sisters and recovering from the dreadful hours where she believed Apple herself was also dead. ‘There is some argument to be made that the point is devotion to the Ancestor,’ she said, some of her old buoyancy shining in her eyes, ‘but I agree. It would be dreadfully boring without sneaking off into town – I almost wish we’d been novices together, the trouble we could’ve gotten into…’

Apple returned her laughter. ‘There wouldn’t’ve been a week we weren’t shaved… we would’ve provided the hair for half the wigs in Verity.’

Kettle moved closer to Apple and ran her hand through her hair. ‘That would be a shame,’ she said, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, ‘because I rather like your hair.’

‘What other parts of me do you like?’ said Apple, a teasing note to her voice. 

‘Let me show you.’

* * *

  
  


Apple traced a finger over her habit, waiting for the others to arrive. It was the first time in months she’d donned a full habit over bedclothes; there was something comforting about once again wearing her Grey cloak. The familiar weight of her poisons and antidotes was like armour – it offered protection from the outside world and made her feel more like herself again. 

Of course, depending on the outcome of today’s meeting, it may be the last time she would ever wear it. The Abbess of Sweet Mercy did not wear a Grey cloak – she was expected to take the black of Holy Sister, foregoing all trappings of previous positions. Apple did not want to become Abbess; she was content down in the Shade caverns – or at least, she would be, once she was deemed sufficiently recovered enough to resume her duties. Teaching brought her genuine joy, and she had a good mind for the intricacies involved with managing the Grey sisters. However, she was all too aware that there was a shortage of acceptable candidates.

The Abbess must be chosen from one of the six Senior Sisters – so it was, and so it always would be. Apple was not entirely caught up on the ins-and-outs of Sweet Mercy political intrigue due to her long recovery, but Kettle had filled her in on the parts that she herself was privy to. As far as she was aware, they had not yet identified a new Mistress Path – Sister Pan had held the title for longer than all but the most elderly of nuns could remember, so the process of choosing a new one was deeply unfamiliar. It was not as simple as choosing the best swordswoman or the most gifted academic, as some of the other positions were. Pathwalking was a dangerous and unique skill, and it would take some time to decipher which Sister would be most adept at representing it. Apple did not envy who would eventually be chosen – she would have large and beloved shoes to fill. 

That left only five who were even remotely eligible – and of those five, two were sure to be automatically disqualified on account of their age and inexperience. Sisters Cage and Page – Mistresses Blade and Spirit, respectively – were considered young to be Senior Sisters, never mind Abbess. Most still thought of them as Nona and Jula – their religious names had not yet stuck, as both had taken Holy Orders only on the eve of the battle. It was not entirely unusual for the Mistress Blade to be young – it was a position that required more vigour than the others, and hunskas in particular were known to age quickly – but the fact that Nona Grey was technically a Holy Sister had raised some eyebrows. Kettle had told her that Sister Rose, as acting Abbess, had given Sister Cage permission to transfer to the Red due to the… unusual circumstances surrounding her initial pledge. Apple was glad of it – the restless girl she had instructed would never have been happy living the life of prayer and quiet contemplation required of a Holy Sister. Sister Page’s appointment had been more surprising – Mistress Spirit was a powerful position, one often given to a more Senior nun. There was no doubt that the girl was both devout and intelligent enough for it, but it was still irregular. 

That left Sisters Rose, Rule and Apple herself as the only true candidates for the position. Sister Rose, as the only surviving Sister Superior, was automatically made Acting Abbess after the battle. Seniority and the chain of command would make her the presumptive heir to the title, but Rose herself would be the first to admit she was not suited to it. As a healer above all else, she lacked the stomach for the political manoeuvrings required of the Abbess and would oppose on principal to the deployment of Sisters Red and Grey. It was possible that Rose’s overall seniority would compel her to accept the position regardless of her own personal inclinations, but it was more likely to come down to Rule or Apple.

Apple sighed, her stomach already aching. The journey from her chambers to this hall had not been an easy one – they were at opposing ends of the Convent from one another, and she’d had to lean heavily on Kettle to make it. As much as she’d enjoyed the previous night’s activities – they’d had to get rather… creative… in order to accommodate her inability to move very much – it had perhaps not been the best time to reignite her sex life. She’d awoken that morning content but very, very tired. She knew she could not appear weak at this meeting – Rose would, obviously, be there and whether or not she left it as Abbess or Mistress Shade, she’d like to be able to be cleared for duty within the next year.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Sisters Cage and Page. It was quite unlike them to be so punctual – Apple had lost count of the number of times she’d poisoned Nona in particular for tardiness during her years as a novice. Possibly the two young women were nervous for what was likely their first formal meeting as Senior Sisters, or perhaps Page had managed to exert some positive influence over her wild companion. Apple snorted to herself. The former was much more likely. 

Sister Page smiled at her – a kind, earnest smile. ‘It is good to see you up and about – you look better now than when I last saw you. I have been praying to the Ancestor for your recovery.’

Apple nodded and returned the other woman’s smile. She remembered her from Shade class – she’d been exceptionally intelligent, but so sweet-natured that she’d lacked the heart to apply the lessons particularly well. She’d no doubt make a fine Mistress Spirit, if an entirely different one to her predecessors. ‘Your prayers are greatly appreciated, I grow stronger every day.’

‘We heard Sister Oak was in a rage,’ said Sister Cage, mischief twinkling in her eyes, ‘Something about a very expensive vintage going missing. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

Apple raised an eyebrow, face impassive. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. How awful for Sister Oak.’ Lies and deception were her bread and butter – it felt good to employ them again, even if it was only for a trivial matter.

‘Anyway,’ she said, tactfully changing the subject, ‘I take it the two of you have never attended a meeting of the Senior Sisters before?’

They shook their heads. ‘We’ve had some informal talks with Sister Rose about how we’re supposed to go about teaching classes, but nothing really official.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Just remember that we’re not your teachers anymore – we’re your colleagues, and Sisters. Follow my lead if you’re nervous.’

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of acting Abbess Rose and Sister Rule. They took their corresponding seats and exchanged pleasantries with the Sisters already assembled. Apple noticed that Rose looked her up and down with a clinical eye, a small frown gracing her features. She sat up straighter, willing her body to banish any previous signs of tiredness. 

‘Very well then,’ began Sister Rose, evidently deciding no further small talk was required, ‘We five have assembled to elect a new Abbess. Each of us is eligible for the position, and we must now decide who, Ancestor willing, would be most suitable.’ She turned to Nona and Jula. ‘Mistress Blade and Mistress Spirit – as new members of both our order and its inner circle, it would be somewhat… irregular… for either of you to become Abbess, but if you feel the Ancestor Wills it, you are both free to put yourselves forward as candidates. Do you wish to do so?’

Both girls shook their heads. This came as no surprise to Apple, but she could see some relief in the eyes of both Rose and Rule. Doubtless, neither were thrilled at the idea of serving under an Abbess who had been a novice not three months ago.

Sister Rose nodded, accepting their refusal. She then paused for a moment, as if pondering how to phrase her next statement. ‘I would also like to remove myself from consideration. I have ably performed the role these past months, but it is not my calling. I believe I am best suited to serve the Ancestor in the Sanitorium, as I have for many years and hope to for many more.’

So it was official, then – at the end of this meeting, either she or Rule would be Abbess. ‘We wish the same for you, Sister.’

Rose nodded. ‘Thank you, Mistress Shade. It cannot have escaped your notice that only yourself and Mistress Academia are left in the running – do either of you wish to withdraw your candidacy? Be warned, if both of you choose to do so, we will be left in a rather unfortunate predicament.’

Yes. She did wish to withdraw her candidacy. Becoming Abbess was not something she was diametrically opposed to – in a few years, perhaps, she would be happy to stand for the position – but, to put it plainly, she was happy where she was for the moment. Her own faith in the Ancestor could be somewhat shaky at times – as a Sister of Discretion, it was not always wise to adhere strictly to the principles of faith, for it would make their work almost impossible – and the Abbess must be resolute. The task of seeing to the physical and spiritual wellbeing of every being in the Convent was not one she felt equipped to carry out – but they were short of options. 

She paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘I will not withdraw my candidacy. I trust I will be a more than able Abbess – my experience as Mistress Shade has provided me with the necessary understanding of the politics involved. I will therefore take the role if you, my Sisters, believe it is the Ancestor’s Will. However, I do not feel particularly Called to the position, not at this moment in time, and believe that my place is with the Grey.’

Once again, Rose nodded. ‘Have you anything to add, Mistress Academia?’

The older woman stood. ‘I made my position clear when Abbess Glass passed on and Sister Wheel took the helm. It has not changed, but for the benefit of our more Junior Sisters who would not have been at that meeting – I am content to become Abbess if that is what the Ancestor requires of me. Like Mistress Shade, my work has afforded me the required knowledge for the more political aspects of the role. Yet I am equally content to continue teaching the novices – whatever my Sisters believe best.’

‘Thank you, Mistresses Shade and Academia,’ said Sister Rose. ‘Since neither of you wish to withdraw your candidacy, we shall vote. As Acting Abbess, I shall cast my vote first – I choose Mistress Shade.’

Anxiety coiled in her gut. There was nothing she could do if her Sisters voted her into the position. She would not be able to refuse. ‘I vote for Mistress Academia,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even. Luckily, she had a lot of experience at this.

‘I also vote for Mistress Shade,’ spoke Sister Rule, ‘Whilst I have no qualms with taking the position, I believe her experience as a Grey Sister will serve us well in these difficult times.’

Two votes out of five. If either of the two younger Sisters voted for her, she would be locked in. She turned to Sister Cage, silently willing her to consider her perspective. If she could get her on side, Sister Page would likely vote in the same direction. The young Mistress Blade caught her gaze and her brow furrowed, as if puzzling out what her former teacher could possibly mean. 

Understanding dawned in her eyes and she turned back to Sister Rose. ‘I vote for Mistress Academia.’

‘It appears we have a two-way tie,’ said Rose, a note of surprise in her voice. ‘Most unusual. Mistress Spirit – it appears the deciding vote will be in your hands. Choose wisely, and allow the Ancestor to guide your decision.’

The girl who had once been called Jula took in each of her Sisters in turn, a considering look on her face. Finally, she glanced back at her old friend. ‘I am honoured that you would all trust me with this decision,’ she said, her voice earnest. ‘But I believe the Ancestor is firm in his directive. I vote for Mistress Academia.’

Relief washed over Apple. She would not be burdened with leadership of the entire convent, and could return to what she did best. She kneeled before the newly elected Abbess Rule, as was tradition – ignoring the stabbing pain in her gut at the sudden movement – and kissed her hand. ‘May the Ancestor guide your actions, Abbess.’ Sister Rose swiftly followed suit, and – after a moment of youthful hesitation – Sisters Cage and Page mimicked their elders. 

‘Thank you, Dear Sisters,’ said Abbess Rule, as no-nonsense as ever, ‘Now, I believe we have an abundance of matters to discuss…..’

* * *

Apple organised her ingredients carefully, ensuring there would be enough for each student. There was no reason to be nervous, she knew - it was a simple enough lesson, one she must have taught a hundred times in the past - but excitement thrummed within her regardless. It was not every day one returned to teaching after sustaining life-threatening injuries, after all. 

Ancestor, she'd been waiting  _ months  _ for this. Not all of her Sisters enjoyed teaching - some viewed it as a hindrance to their spiritual endeavours, others disliked spending so much time with children not yet committed to their way of life - but Apple had always revelled in it. Kettle joked that this was because she just enjoyed poisoning novices - and  _ yes, _ while that was true to a degree, there was more to it. There was something uniquely satisfying about teaching these girls how to survive, about giving them the tools they needed to help themselves in a world that would quickly see them perish. There was nothing quite like it. 

It had taken another month after the vote for Sister Rose to deem her fit enough to resume teaching. Apple had tried to go over her head and convince the new Abbess to let her go back, but Rule stuck staunchly to Rose's instruction. She'd thrown herself into her recovery, doing a little more each day. Kettle worried she was pushing herself too far, but even she could not argue with the results. Apple would not be setting records on Blade Path anytime soon, but she could stand and move about for the amount of time required to teach a class. 

As the door opened and new Red Class novices began to trickle in, Apple took a moment to consider them. They were so  _ young,  _ and there was a brightness to them that was absent from the battle-hardened elder students. Once the immediate aftermath of the battle was concluded, Sweet Mercy had begun recruiting in earnest - both to replace the girls who had perished in the fighting and those whose Holy Orders had been rushed through. There'd been no shortage of orphans to choose from. 

They hadn’t been discerning - any girl who showed even a hint of Ancestor-touched blood was chosen, regardless of background. Many arrived in situations similar to Sister Cage’s - meaning low-born and village-bred, with no hint of a previous education. Kettle, as she had with Nona, helped some of them with their letters. Apple knew that her lover enjoyed this - she had always been lively and personable, but her solitary Grey missions offered little opportunity to interact with friendly faces. 

'Settle down,' she said, as the last students made their way through the door, late. She made a note of their faces for later. 'Today we’ll be discussing a poison that is both simple and effective, and has a range of practical uses….'

The lesson progressed without flaw. It was like she was her old self again - like the past few months and even years had never happened. She’d finish up the class and leave to see Sister Tallow training the red sisters in the yard, before running into Sister Wheel as she pontificated about the importance of chastity or devotion or some other such virtue. Dinner would then be spent in the great hall with Abbess Glass presiding over everyone, and they would all pretend not to notice that Sister Pan had sneaked herself an extra slice of cake. 

Of course, the bolt of pain to her stomach whenever she moved was enough to shatter this illusion. They’d all lost so much - she no more than most, and less than some. Even as it appeared that things were getting back to normal, it would take Sweet Mercy years to truly recover. Some chasms would never be filled. 

But still - life goes on. It would be an insult to the memory of her Sisters and all they stood for if she allowed the sorrow to get to her, or to interfere with the way she taught her students. There was a thud as the two girls who had arrived late keeled over onto their desks, unable to move. She smiled. 'Yes, lock-up is incredibly fast acting, isn’t it?' Her remaining students looked up to her, horrified - though some, she noted, were impressed. 'Don’t fret - they’ll be fine once they take the antidote. I’ll give it to them presently. Just remember - don’t be late to my class again.'

* * *

Apple returned to her quarters in the Shade caverns in mixed spirits. On the one hand, it was wonderful to be back teaching again - idleness had never suited her, and her injury was improving every day. On the other, now that she was getting back into the routines of convent life, it was impossible to miss how it had been changed. It was not so much the buildings - though they, too, showed signs of fighting - but the people, or rather the  _ lack  _ of them. The loss of her fallen Sisters was felt keenly. The students were different, too - the Red Class novices not so much, as they were not dissimilar from any other batch of new recruits except perhaps from the fact that they all joined at once - but Grey, Holy and Mystic novices walked the halls as if there were some form of shadow hanging over them. They didn’t giggle together quite so much, and their eyes were largely robbed of their youthful optimism. All of Sweet Mercy would carry scars for quite some time. 

She noticed something not quite right in the corner of her eye and smiled softly. 'You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to take me unawares, you know.'

Kettle dematerialised and matched her smile. 'Damn it. You’re the only one who notices me in my shadow form, you know? How do you manage it?'

She placed a swift kiss on her lover’s cheek in welcome. 'I’m always aware of your presence.'

Kettle winked impishly. 'You’ll have to show me just how aware later. But anyway, how was your first day back?'

'It was good to be back. I’d missed the classroom - naturally, I managed to slip the two latecomers some lock-up. They won’t be late again, I’m sure.'

Kettle laughed. 'Of course you did. You know, I made my way through the entire time substituting for you without poisoning anyone. It  _ is  _ possible.'

'Yes,' Apple agreed, 'But now they’ll be more cautious. They won’t accept food from just anyone, and they’ll be mindful of what they touch. It could save their lives. Besides,' she added, a smirk lighting up her face, 'it’s  _ fun _ .'

The other woman rolled her eyes fondly. 'Naturally. I picked something up for you in Verity, by the way. I was leading the relief party today and a merchant gave it to me in thanks.'

Apple arched a brow, interested. 'What is it?' she asked, 'Did you tell him you’d taken a vow of poverty?'

'I conveniently left that part out,' Kettle replied, as she rustled through her cloak. 'Don’t tell Sister Page, though I doubt she’s going to be as… forceful… about these kinds of things about her predecessor. Ah,' she said, producing a small box, 'Here!'

The box was small with a few decorative engravings on the sides. Inside, there was a small metallic likeness of a woman attached to some kind of mechanism. It was very pretty, but she could think of no discernible use for it. 

Noticing her lover’s somewhat bemused expression, Kettle took the box back. 'It’s a music box!' she said, twisting the silver mechanism as she did so. 'You wind it up, like this, and - ta da!' A soft melody began to play from the box and the metallic woman started to pirouette. It quickly filled the room with its sound. 

Kettle smiled and placed the box on a nearby table. She extended her hand to Apple. 'Mistress Shade,' she said, her voice adopting a faux-formal tone, 'May I have this dance?'

'Why Sister Kettle,' she said, playing along, 'You may.'

And so they danced - it was the first time they had done so, but it would not be the last. Neither of them had had it easy the past couple of years, but they’d survived. They’d survived, and they were together. It would be a while yet before either they or Sweet Mercy recovered wholly from the trauma of the battle, but recover they would. There was plenty more dancing to do. 


End file.
